


Simple Man

by sammysouffle (talesandthings)



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Foggy is not doing okay, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesandthings/pseuds/sammysouffle
Summary: Foggy meets someone who looks an awful lot like Matt but has none of his qualities. And things are only about to get more complicated...





	Simple Man

Foggy’s head felt like it would split any second, his tongue was heavy in his mouth, and the coffee he filled himself up with earlier did nothing to help ease the queasiness in his stomach. Hangovers were absolutely fucking terrible. If that wasn’t enough, he was getting late for work. He went into work late every day these days. Jeri didn’t say anything. He did stay late and work till 2 in the morning, anyway. He probably should have taken Uber but he really didn’t his Uber driver would appreciate it, if he ended up retching his guts into their car. Besides, he needed the fresh air to clear his mind, and get some of that whiskey he had last night, out of his system.

With the sun beating down his back, he kept his sunglasses on, as he pushed his way through throngs on the crowded street. He never looked at or interacted with anyone, and that’s probably the only reason why he almost missed it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed familiar dark hair and red glasses brush by him. It took him a few seconds to realize what he had just seen. Once he did, he stopped in the middle of the crowd, causing someone to bump right into his back, and yell, “Get out of the way, asshole!” before elbowing him in the rib,

“Motherfucker,” he groaned as he clutched onto his side and bent over. More people bumped into him and cursed him out as they walked by, but Foggy didn’t care. With his heart racing, he forced himself to push his sunglasses up, stand up again, and look around at the crowd for the familiar face he just thought he saw. The thing is that he keeps seeing that face everywhere. But it’s usually when his tummy is filled with alcohol instead of dinner and sees stars before his eyes, and for some reason has the urge to flirt with Josie. It _doesn’t_ happen when he’s sober- _ish_.

When he didn’t see the familiar mop of hair over the crowd, he figured it was probably his imagination. “Get yourself together, man,” he grumbled to himself. “He’s been dead for 2 years.” He was about to turn around and leave when he saw it about 100 feet ahead at the crosswalk. Foggy stopped breathing, his heart painfully clenched in his chest, when he got a better look this time. The same dark hair, which looked more yellow in the sun than red like it did before. But that scruffy beard was the same, and so were those red glasses. When Foggy could move again, he pushed his way through the crowd and didn’t even care when he bumped into people and got pushed back in return. “MATT!” He yelled, but the person didn’t turn. Foggy’s legs were about to give out, with how numb they felt. But he didn’t stop “Shit,” he hissed when the light changed from the red hand to a walking person. Foggy didn’t wait to catch a breath and instead took off after Matt. When he managed to get within the touching distance, with a shaky hand, he reached out and grabbed Matt’s arm, forcing the guy to stop.

“What the-” He complained as he turned to face Foggy.

Foggy’s breath caught in his throat. It was Matt alright, but at the same time, he looked so… different. Up close, his beard looked much fuller, his hair was slicked back, and he was wearing a maroon blazer with a silk blue shirt inside.

“Can I help you?” Matt asked, sounding irritated.

“Matt?” Foggy asked as his eyes traveled from his hair down to his clothes again.

Matt’s lips twisted into an unamused frown. “Who the hell is Matt?”

Foggy’s heart skipped a beat, his hand slipped from his arm. “You-” Before Foggy could finish his sentence, a loud honk got his attention. A gasp escaped his lips, and he grabbed the guy’s arm again, and pulled him onto the curbside before both of them could get run over by the oncoming white van.

Foggy's hand was suddenly shoved away, and he looked at the man again to find him pushing his glasses up and glaring- right _at him._ That’s when it hit Foggy that those were sunglasses. The guy looked visibly shaken. “Are you out of your mind?” He yelled. “We could have died because of you!”

Foggy’s stomach dropped, and it’s almost like the Earth shifted right from under his feet. He felt his lips quiver as he stared back at- _Matt?_ No, this couldn’t be Matt. There was nothing Matt-like about him. But he looked exactly like Foggy’s dead best friend.

Foggy felt tears trailing down his cheeks and a silent sob escaped his lips. He didn’t cry two years ago, so he isn’t sure why he was crying now.

“Oh no.” The guy’s features relaxed. “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he added quickly and reached out to touch Foggy’s arm.

The warm hand made Foggy relax. He couldn’t help himself. He wrapped his arms the guy’s neck, hugged him tightly, and sobbed against him. He could feel the guy awkwardly moving his arms around, possibly trying to figure out what to do when a strange man hugs you in the middle of the street. Foggy soon found arms around his waist.

“Shhh… it’s okay,” the guy whispered into his hair.

***

Foggy wasn’t sure how long he cried into the stranger’s arms, but when he hazy mind cleared out, he found himself sitting outside what looked like a coffee shop. His hands were freezing, thanks to the cup of water he was holding between them. A familiar pair of brown eyes, ones that didn’t belong to his best friend, were staring up at him. They were filled with concern.

“You okay there?” The guy asked from where he was crouched on the ground in front of Foggy.

Foggy numbly nodded his and reached up to wipe snot away from his nose, with the back of his hand.

“Hold on,” the guy said, as he reached into his brown messenger bag. He pulled out a pack of Kleenex and handed it to Foggy. “Here.”

With a shaky hand, Foggy reached out to take the Kleenex, “Thanks,” he mumbled as he pulled out a tissue and blew his nose into it.

“It’s all good,” the man replied. He sighed, got up from the ground, and took a seat on the other chair at the tiny metal table.

When Foggy turned towards him, he found the guy watching him carefully. It made Foggy squirm. Matt had to guess what he looked like, but this guy could _see_ him.

“I’m guessing I remind you of someone?” The guy finally broke the silence. “And that someone’s name is Matt?”

Foggy’s lips parted, and he blinked at the guy. “That- that’s right."

The guy hummed in return. Foggy heard him open his messenger bag again and found him pulling out a pack of cigarette and a lighter. “Want one?” The guy asked, holding out the pack towards Foggy.

“I don’t smoke,” Foggy replied, and instead took a sip from the water in his hand. The cold liquid eased his dry throat.

“That’s good. Smoking’s bad for you,” the guy said lighting up his cigarette. He took a puff and tapped it towards ground beside him. “So who’s Matt?” He decided to ask.

Foggy stared at him for a few seconds. “A friend.”

“Ahhh…” the guy trailed off. “I am assuming he’s dead?”

Foggy felt his throat tighten up. “He is.” His voice cracked as he answered. “He died two years ago. You-” He paused to assess the guy’s face again. “-you look _exactly_ like him.”

The guy blew another puff of smoke before saying, “Wow, I never imagined I would be someone’s doppelganger. It’s quite exciting actually. How did he die, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Foggy cleared his throat and placed his cup on the table. “Um- I- I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Of course. I understand. I lost my wife a few years ago,” the guy replied. “Granted we were divorced and all, but her death hit me hard. That’s why I moved to the Big Apple. No one here looked at me like I was about to break into a million pieces. Besides, why face your problems when you can run away from them, am I right?” The guy pointed his index finger and winked at Foggy, which made him balk. It’s almost like someone out there wondered what the opposite of Matt would be like, and created this guy instead. They had a sick and cruel sense of humor for introducing him to Foggy when Foggy had lost his best friend. “Sorry, that was a bad joke,” the guy sheepishly added when he seemed to notice Foggy’s unamused look. The guy took another long drag from his cigarette and then dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his loafers. “I’m Michael, by the way,” he said stretching his hand towards Foggy. “But people usually call me Mike, or Dock, or Professor- though I’m not a Professor- _yet”_

Foggy narrowed his eyes at the guy and stared at the hand in front of him. Matt’s middle name was Michael. Was this coincidence or something more?

“This is the part where people usually shake hands,” the guy commented.

Foggy dubiously looked at his outstretched hand. He waited a few seconds and then reached out and took it in his cold hand. “I’m Franklin. But people usually call me Foggy.”

The guy’s bushy eyebrows shot up almost comically. “Foggy? Isn’t that just the sweetest name I’ve ever heard.” The leer he gave Foggy made him squirm again, and he immediately pulled his hand away. “So what do you do, _Foggy_?” His name sounded so wrong coming out of Michael’s mouth. When his eyes trailed down Foggy’s body, Foggy pulled his suit jacket a little closer. “Let me guess, Wall Street?”

“N- no I’m a lawyer,” Foggy stuttered. “What about you?”

“Lawyer? Interesting. I once entertained the idea of becoming a lawyer.”

“What happened?” 

“Stuff,” Michael shrugged. He put his hands out in front of him on the table and scooted forward on his chair. “So, Prosecutor or Defense?”

Foggy fully turned to sit properly at the table. “Technically both.”

“Oh?” The guy asked and pursed his lips together. “How does that work?”

“Right now I’m Defense but I-” he sighed, and then added. “-I am running in the upcoming elections- for the DA’s office- so I might be switching sides soon.”

A dark look passed over the guy’s face that ran a chill down Foggy’s spine. But the look disappeared almost as immediately as it appeared. Foggy gulped and pressed his back against the chair. “Uh- um- what do you do?”

“Well, my job is definitely not as exciting as the DA’s office,” the guy chuckled. It sounded hollow to Foggy’s ears. “I’m a Lecturer at Brooklyn College. Teach Philosophy of Religion out there." He scoffed and shook his head in faux amusement.

“What’s wrong with that? Sounds like an exciting subject.”

“Not for an atheist,” Michael replied. “Or maybe it is, depending on how you look at it, I guess. But I do have some _interesting_ debates that I can say for sure.”

Foggy stared at him. The uneasy feeling settled in his stomach again. This time it wasn’t because of the hangover. He almost jumped out of his seat when his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. Heat spread from the back of his head to his cheeks, and Foggy ducked his head to take out his phone. Hogarth. “Dammit,” Foggy mumbled under his breath when he realized it was already 10:30. Foggy knew he would regret this but he hit the ignore button and pocketed his phone again. “Um- I should get going,” he said as he started to get up.

Michael stood up with him. “It was nice meeting you, Foggy,” he said stretching out his hand towards him. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend,” he added as Foggy shook his hand again. Michael squeezed it a little too tight, which made Foggy wince.

“You too, I- And I’m sorry for almost getting us killed,” said Foggy, once he pulled his hand away. 

“If you-” Michael paused and nervously scratched the back of his head. “-If you want, let’s get coffee sometime. Maybe not here, somewhere better.”

Foggy’s heart skipped. He really shouldn’t. This was a bad, bad idea. For one, there was something off about this guy. “Okay,” said Foggy, against his better judgment. Foggy didn’t trust this guy, but he had him intrigued.

The guy took out a card and pen from his messenger bag and wrote something on the back of it before handing it to Foggy. “It’s my number. Call me whenever it’s convenient for you.” As Foggy plucked the card out of his hand and as he looked at it, he heard the guy say, “I hope you’ll call, Foggy. I would love to see you again.” He offered Foggy a warm smile when Foggy looked up at him again.

 “I will. I’ll see you around, Michael.”

***

Foggy skipped out on lunch and stayed at his office. He stared at the card while swiveling around in his chair. Sure enough, it was a Brooklyn College business card with the words Michael Dockery written in bold letters and the office phone number, address, and email, along with the office hours written on the bottom. On the back, in a messy handwriting, there was a 10-digit number. Foggy picked up his phone and started to enter the number, but then he erased it and set the card aside, before calling a different number.

“What do you want, Nelson?” Came Jessica’s sleepy voice from the other side after the fifth ring.

“Well, good morning to you too, Sunshine,” Foggy replied sarcastically and tossed his head back against his chair.

“First of all, fuck you,” Jessica grumbled. “Second of all, what the hell do you want?”

Foggy picked up the card and tapped it against the table. “I’m finally collecting on all that pro-bono work I did for you. I have a job. Meet me Josie’s at 11.”

Foggy smiled when he heard Jessica groan on the other end. “What kinda job?”

“I need you to follow someone,” Foggy replied. “Meet me tonight then I’ll give you all the details.”

***

Foggy didn’t have a hard time finding Jessica at the bar. There were only a few people left at the place at this hour. “How many did you have already?” Foggy asked as he put his bag on the counter and sat down on the stool beside Jessica.

Jessica picked up the whiskey glass with her right hand and flipped him off with her left-hand middle finger. She emptied all the contents before slamming the glass down on the counter and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Who do you want me to follow?” She asked once she was done letting out a loud burp.

Foggy took out the card from his pocket and hesitantly sat it down in front of her. “Michael Dockery. He’s an Associate Professor in the Philosophy department at Brooklyn College.”

With a trembling hand, Jessica picked up the card and looked at it. “Who the fuck is this guy? Your new boyfriend or something?”

Foggy gulped and averted her eyes. “Josie, can I get whatever’s on tap tonight,” he asked. “You’d have to see him for yourself to believe it, Jessica”

Jessica’s eyebrows shot up with interest. “Huh. Why? What’s so special about him?”

Foggy took in a deep breath and tapped his fingers against the beer glass Josie put in front of him. “He looks exactly like Matt.”

Jessica went completely quiet beside him. When Foggy looked over at her again, he found her watching him with wide eyes. “Are you seeing things?”

“Not unless, I can touch hallucinations, no,” Foggy replied. He picked up his glass and took a large gulp. The bitter taste made him cough and smack his lips together in disgust.

“Where did you meet him?” Jessica asked. She still didn’t sound too convinced.

“On the streets, a block away from my apartment building,” Foggy replied. “At first I thought it was him, but this guy- he’s nothing like Matt. For one, he can see.”

“Damn,” Jessica hissed. “So he looks exactly like him?”

“He looks more like a hipster, to be honest, and he teaches Philosophy, so I guess he is one. I was almost expecting him to bust out a fedora.” Foggy laughed and took another large gulp of his beer, which didn't make him want to throw up this time. “Matt would hate this guy,” he added and tapped his fingers against the glass again.

“Why do you want me to follow him then?” Jessica asked curiously. “You think it’s him?”

Foggy shrugged in return. “I don’t know. He doesn’t exhibit any of the qualities Matt did. But then again, he’s just _too much_ of a polar opposite of Matt. He even went out of his way to tell me he’s an atheist in our first meeting. I mean, if I had to create a new persona for Matt and didn’t want anyone to know it was him, _this_ is the guy I would create.” Foggy dropped his shoulders and sighed. He couldn’t help but wonder what if this was Matt and he didn’t want Foggy to know it was him. “Besides, first the new Daredevil type vigilante shows up and then a Matt lookalike, this all can’t be a coincidence.”

“I thought that new vigilante was a woman.”

“Yeah, that’s what Kar- the reporters are saying,” said Foggy. His heart ached at the mere thought of Karen. “But something still tells me this is all connected,” he added, clearing his throat.  

“Nelson, how many hours of sleep do you get each night?” Jessica asked all of a sudden.

”What? Why do you care about my sleep?”

“I don’t,” replied Jessica. “But I invented alcoholism, man. The bloodshot eyes, the shaky hands, doesn’t take much to figure out what’s happening here.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Foggy scoffed. “And I’m not like you, Jessica. I know my limits.”

“You’re not doing well,” Jessica didn’t stop. “You haven’t been since you decided to run for the DA’s office. Why are you doing that, anyway? I thought you liked being Defense.”

Foggy felt a spark of anger rush through his body. He picked up the drink and knocked it all down in one long gulp. Some of it trailed down the edge of his lips and soaked through his shirt. He slammed the glass back on the counter and shot out of his stool. "That's none of your business," he replied defensively and picked up his bag. His vision blurred slightly, and he stumbled but hands on his arms steadied him.

“I don’t care,” Jessica replied coolly. “You were doing well. But then 6 months ago, you suddenly decide to run for the DA’s office and that’s when shit went to hell. You started drinking, you started missing Murdock all of sudden-”

“I always missed him,” Foggy said before a hiccup made its way up his throat.

“You even pushed Page away,” Jessica added adamantly.

“Don’t you _dare_ talk about her!” Foggy said through clenched teeth and pointed his finger in her face. His face suddenly felt hot with anger.

“If you weren’t a miserable fuck already, I would break that finger, and shove it up your ass.” Jessica threatened, keeping her voice calm and collected. 

“You know what?” Foggy asked, choking back on a sob. “At this point, you could kill me and I would probably thank you.”

Jessica looked struck by his words if her widened eyes and slightly agape mouth were anything to go by. “Nelson-” She reached out to touch him again, but he pulled his arm out of her grip.

“You wanna know why I’m running for office?” Foggy asked. “Because when I was hired by HCB they promised me a partnership in the firm but after almost three years of busting my ass there, I don’t see my career going anywhere.” His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, his throat closed up a little and cleared it before adding, “I’m ambitious, and I want to be in control for once. I’m tired of domineering people in my life. First Matt, now Hogarth. This is the only way I can strike out on my own, and get on top of the food chain at the same time.” He reached out to pick up the card and give it another glance. “Find out who this man really is, Miss Jones,” Foggy made his voice sound more professional like he was talking to a client. “I’ll pay you whatever you need.” He put the card back on the counter and left without throwing another glance Jessica’s way.

***

Foggy released a deep breath and tossed his bag aside, before falling back on the couch. There were clothes lying all around his apartment, and the dishes overflowed in his sink. There were beer and whiskey bottles all around his apartment. It’s a miracle he hasn’t died of alcohol poisoning yet. His eyes landed on the half empty whiskey bottle that still sat on his coffee table. He was tempted to reach out and pick it up, but some rational part of his brain chastised him. As Foggy was contemplating reaching out and swiping the bottle off the table, his phone rang in his pocket. It’s was almost 1 in the morning, who the hell thought it was a good idea to call him now, he wondered. He figured it must be some telemarketer and was about to ignore it when his eyes landed on the caller ID. Foggy felt hairs on the back of his neck stand, and he took a large gulp of air before answering the phone.

“You have a call from an inmate in Rikers Island. Do you accept the call?” The automated voice asked on the other end.

Foggy almost had the urge to say no, but he knew what the repercussions would be if he did. “I- I do,” he replied, clearing his throat.

The person on the other side released a loud breath before saying, “Mr. Nelson.” The voice made his whole body tremble with fear. This voice has haunted all of his dreams for the last 6 months. “I have been trying to reach you. You know what happens when you ignore me, don’t you?”

The voice was still calm but it made Foggy’s breath hitch. “Y-yes,” he replied slowly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t-”

“I don’t need excuses, Mr. Nelson. I need results. So far I’m not happy with them,” said the man. “Elections are in a month and quite frankly, I am inclined to think that you don’t want to win this.”

Foggy’s heartbeat picked up. “I- I do. Please, just don’t do anything-”

“You’re no position to bargain, Mr. Nelson. I still have eyes on your friends. Ms. Stahl is at home in a compromising position with a man who _isn’t_ you.” There was a teasing tone in that voice that made bile rise in Foggy’s stomach. “Then there’s Mr. Mahoney, who I’m told is still at the precinct. He works too hard. Maybe I should put him out of his misery.”

“No!” Foggy almost yelled, clutching onto his phone. “Please- don’t hurt him.”

“I’m going to ignore that tone, Mr. Nelson,” said the man. “For now. And of course, Ms. Page-” Foggy’s breath caught in his throat at the leering tone in that voice. “-she’s the one you really want to save, don’t you? The one you’re doing this for. At first, I thought you had _feelings_ for her- but then- then I realized that real reason is much more interesting.”

Tears prickled in Foggy’s eyes, and he angrily reached up to wipe them away.

“You couldn’t save Murdock so you think you saving her would make up for that.”

“Please just stop- I’m doing everything you tell me-”

“Not everything, Mr. Nelson,” the man’s voice became a little louder. “I told you to keep your distance from that alcoholic PI.”

“I had to see her. I needed information,” Foggy quickly told him.

“What kind of information?”

Shit. Foggy couldn’t tell this man about Michael.

“Mr. Nelson, I am waiting. I don’t like waiting.”

“I- uh-” Foggy struggled to find a lie. “-the- the woman. The woman in black that’s been running around town killing your people. I told her to find out who she is.”

“Huh,” the man voices his amazement out loud. “For the first time, you’ve done something without being asked. I am impressed, Mr. Nelson. I always knew you would come around. I know how to pick the right people to work for me. First Wesley.” His voice sounded pained as he said that name. “-Now you.”

Something between a sob and gasp escaped Foggy’s throat, and he put his hand over his mouth. He was becoming one of these people.

“The elections are in two weeks, Mr. Nelson. Get yourself together, and stop drinking yourself into a stupor. Go out there win the hearts of the people your friend loved so much. Your winning benefits both of us, but more importantly-” he paused dramatically like he always did. “-It keeps Ms. Page alive.”

The line went dead and the phone dropped out of Foggy’s hand and on the carpeted floor. Foggy didn’t have to contemplate anymore. He reached out and picked up whiskey from the coffee table.

***

“Son of a bitch,” Jessica grumbled to herself as she approached the open door of her house.

“Can’t you two call- like normal people?” She asked pushing the door open.

“This is as normal as it gets for us, Ms. Jones,” the guy replied, and even in the dark, Jessica could see his smirk. Jessica huffed and threw aside her keys to turn on the lights. “You look like an asshole,” she threw in the guy’s direction, sitting at her desk with his feet on the table like he belonged there.

The woman snorted from the chair in front of him.

“You’re the one who chose this outfit, Jessica,” he claimed, getting up from the chair and doing a twirl like an actual asshole.

“Whatever, “Jessica grumbled. “Heard you met Nelson today, _Mike_.”

The smirk dropped from his face, which made Jessica roll her eyes again. She picked the card out of her jacket pocket and held it up between her middle and index fingers. “How did you even write this?”

He shrugged and moved to stand in front of Jessica. He tried to pluck the card from her fingers, but she pulled it back.

“Mike had to learn,” he replied. “Now do you believe me?”

“Believe what?” Jessica scoffed and moved to sit on her visitor chair beside the woman. “That you can pass off as a sighted person?”

“No,” Murdock replied, burying his hands in his pockets. “That Fog-” He stopped himself and a brief sad look passed over his face, but it disappeared almost immediately.  “That _Franklin’s_ changed. He betrayed me, Jessica.”

Jessica looked up at the woman beside her. She looked as doubtful as Jessica felt.

She put aside the swords she was sharpening like a badass, and got out of her chair, before making her way to Murdock. “Matthew,” she gently said his name and reached out to touch his face. “I don’t know your friend, but even I don’t think he’d betray you like that.”

“She’s right, Murdick,” Jessica chimed in. “You should have seen- sorry- heard him tonight. He’s not doing well. He’s spiraling-”  

“I did hear him,” Murdock cut her off. “I heard how his so-called ambitions are important to him. He sold out. Money was important to him- I- I didn’t think it was so important to him that he would betray me of all people.” He smacked Natchio’s hand away and turned around to face away from them. 

Jessica knew he was close to tears. “Murdock, _listen_ to me. You only wanna hear what’s in front of you. What helps prove _you're_ right. But I think there’s much more to this. And I think I’m close to finding out what it is.”

“I agree with Jones, Matthew.” Well, that’s a first. “You should talk to your friend.”

Murdock whirled on them, his eyes red. “Talk to him about what?!” He screamed. “About- about why he decided to work for _Fisk_? Or maybe about why he decided to tell Fisk that I was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?”

Jessica threw her head and groaned before shooting out of her chair. “You don’t know what the truth is. You’re pissed. Hell, I don’t even know Nelson that well and I am pissed, but before you go after him, at least learn the whole truth.”

“The whole truth is right in front of us, Jessica!” Murdock claimed. “With me out of the way, Fisk wanted control over the justice system again and Fogg- _fuck_ \- Franklin wanted to get to the top, so he decided to betray me, his supposedly dead best friend, and get into bed with him.” The way he spat that out with so much disdain, it made Jessica back away.

“Okay, setting aside that disturbing image,” she said, making a disgusted noise. "Have you thought about _why_ the Kingpin would back him for the DA position and not Blake? Blake worked for Reyes, he isn't exactly clean. It wouldn't have been hard for Fisk to turn him into his puppet. Then why didn't he do it? Why did he go specifically after Nelson?" 

Murdock seemed taken aback by her words, but he was still stubborn. "It's powerplay. Foggy and I sent him to prison. He probably gets off on the fact that he turned his enemy into an ally." 

"Okay, will you stop it with the disgusting imagery?" Jessica asked. “What are you even trying to do now, by the way? Why did you go meet him today as Michael? I thought you’d let us-” she pointed between Natchios and herself. “-handle this. You were supposed to stay in the background because if the Kingpin even gets a whiff that you’re involved-”

“He won’t!”

“Matthew, Fisk must have Franklin followed,” Natchios reminded him. Now that they weren’t fighting, they seemed to agree on a lot of things. “If you go out as this Michael Dockery person, sooner or later, he will find out and that will foil our whole plan. I am dismantling his rising organization piece by piece. So sit this one out.”

“She’s right, Murdock,” Jessica agreed and moved to stand beside Natchios- Elektra. Elektra was a better name, anyway. “Elektra’s been doing great work as you. Granted, she goes against your values and actually kills people _but_ her methods are working. Sit this one out. You can be the ears of this operation. You can hear everything in the 50-mile radius, so pick up on something useful that can help us out.”

“No,” Murdock growled, adamantly shaking his head. “This is more personal than it was before. I am not sitting this one out. Foggy stabbed me in the back and I will make him pay.”

Jessica made a frustrated noise and threw her head up. “Why are you such a stubborn asshole?”

“He’s always been like that,” Elektra informed her. “Some things just never change.”

“No, but you have, Elektra,” said Murdock. “Any other day, you would have offered to kill _Franklin_.”

Jessica’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Nelson was your friend!”

“Nelson was Matthew Murdock’s friend and Matthew Murdock died 2 years ago,” Murdock threw back. “I am Michael Dockery now and Michael Dockery doesn’t have friends.”

Jessica scoffed and shook her head, “Michael Dockery is a real dick.”

“Agreed.” Elektra’s reply made Jessica look over at her in surprise. “Matthew, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she continued. “Because if you destroy your friend’s life, and it turns out you were wrong, then you’ll never be able to come back from that. So tread carefully and strategically.”


End file.
